


Everything exists to end in a photograph - Harry Styles

by 1Derfulfanfictions



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 04:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1Derfulfanfictions/pseuds/1Derfulfanfictions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wrote this for my bestie. She used to be a Niall girl, but then Harry. No warnings, just enjoy :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Harry groaned as the alarm continued to sound endlessly. He lifted his head from under the pillows and nudged Brooke in her side. “Broookkkeee, shut that thing up,” he whined, turning over to lay on his back. It was bright in the bedroom the young couple shared. Although that was to change when they moved into their new place soon. Brooke slapped his hand away and sighed, sitting up. “Get up Hazza, we have to get ready for the photoshoot,” she yawned, slapping his arm. She threw off the blanket, walking towards the bathroom. “Harry, I mean it! Get up!” Brooke threw an empty water bottle at him before closing the door to their ensuite. Brooke wasn’t ever one for early mornings. Ever. But today was an exception. The One Direction boys were having their photo shoot for the Teen Vogue cover, and Harry had organised it so that Brooke could shoot them too. She needed to build her portfolio, and her boyfriend and his famous boy band counterparts made pretty good subjects. However, it was difficult to tie them down for a separate shoot. One of the few downsides to dating someone of such notoriety was that their lives were planned out, almost to the minute, more than a year in advance. She turned the water on in the shower, as hot as she could stand it, and stood under it, trying to wake up. Brooke heard the door open and close, and Harry’s arms snaked around her waist, pulling her to him. “Morning babe,” he said into the side of her neck. Brooke smiled, even though she knew he couldn’t see her face. “As much as I love this, I’m gonna need you to let me go, so I can wash my hair. I need to be ready this morning. I haven’t even got all my shit together yet,” Brooke turned in his arms, kissing his nose. Her breath hitched in her throat as she took in his naked form, her fingers tracing the tattoos along his collarbones. He gave her the once over, but let her go nonetheless. “Just dress in something comfortable B, I have a surprise for you,” he chimed as Brooke exited the shower. He slapped her butt playfully on the way out, making her yelp. A nervous feeling settled in her stomach, and a surprise was the furthest thing from her mind. She dressed quickly in black skinny jeans and Harry’s favourite Ramone’s shirt, rolling the sleeves up to her shoulders. She threw her hair back in a ponytail. She didn’t really care how she looked, Brooke just wanted to be comfortable. It was going to be a long day. She walked back into the bedroom and pulled on her favourite pair of ratty converse, before heading for the other room to get her equipment ready. She blew air of her lungs nervously, double and triple checking she had everything she needed. She laughed out loud to herself at the absurdity of the situation. She knew these guys better than most of her lifelong friends, and yet she was nervous? Absurd. She met Harry in the kitchen, dropping her bags to the floor. He handed her a glass of juice and toast, crossing one foot over the other and smiling her favourite lopsided smile, munching his breakfast. Brooke smiled back, she couldn’t help it. Harry’s dimples, along with his bright green eyes, were her favourite things about him. They stood in silence, until the doorbell rang. Brooke left the rest of her breakfast and followed Harry towards to door, where their driver was waiting.

Harry took her hand in his once they were safely in the back seat of the black SUV. Brooke was surprised to see they were the first ones picked up. “So, basically, when we get there today, we’re all going straight into hair and makeup. You included,” Brooke’s eyes widened. What the fuck was he talking about? “Uh, I don’t think so Haz. That’s for all your pretty boys. I need to set up and familiarise myself with the setup there,” Harry squeezed her hand. “It wasn’t a question love, it was for informational purposes,” he kissed the side of her temple as they pulled up outside Zayn’s place. By the time they arrived at the studio, Brooke was actually a little excited. Getting all done up wasn’t really her style, but it sounded fun if they were all going to be together. And who knows, she thought, maybe it’ll help ease my nerves.

Harry was making Brooke wait to see the finished product until all 6 of them were done. Right now, they were still waiting on Louis. As usual. “You look beautiful babe,” he said, hugging her closer to him. They were waiting on the black leather couch in the hair and makeup area. Brooke wanted to believe him, but she never really saw herself that way. Her doubts weren’t really helped by the fact the Liam, Zayn and Niall kept sneaking glances at her. None of them were exactly subtle, but Brooke didn’t call them out on it. “Are you ready yet princess?” Brooke asked Louis, craning her neck to see what the progress was. He was snatching the comb from the hair stylists hand, sidling closer to the mirror to fix his hair himself. He really was worse than any girl Brooke had ever known. He stood up and walked over the rest of them, acting like he hadn’t held them up for the last half an hour. Harry pulled Brooke up to a standing position and led her over to the full length mirror at the other end of the room. “Ready?” he asked, his breath warm on her ear. She flinched slightly, and smiled. Even after all this time, he still had that effect on her. She nodded in response, tugging at her tshirt and looking down at the ground as Harry moved to open the black curtain covering the mirror. He cleared his throat, forcing her to look up. She gasped audibly, disbelieving the sight looking back at her in the reflection. She reached up to touch her face. Brooke didn’t recognise herself. The makeup artist had completely transformed her. And her hair. She reached up and touched it tentatively too. Harry bit down on his lower lip, waiting for some sort of response. “What do you think? You hate it don’t you?” he asked quietly. Brooke tore her gaze away from the mirror, and looked at him. “I don’t hate it…it’s just, I dunno. Different. Very not me.” she answered. Harry closed the gap between them and wrapped his arms around her once again. “I think you look incredible,” he said. Brooke smiled. “Thank you,” she whispered, tugging on the black leather vest he was now wearing. “Guys, I don’t want to kill your moment, but lets get going!” Liam called. “This is just the beginning of the surprises this weekend,” Harry said, pulling her towards the screen area.


	2. Chapter 2

Brooke initially spent more time taking in the actions of the magazine photographer than actually taking pictures herself. She had the camera technique down pat, but the people aspect was what she had had the least practice with. “Ok Niall, turn with your side towards me, turn your head to me and look right over the shoulder at the camera. Straighten your spine and keep hands loose by sides.” Brooke watched as Niall did what he was told. It surprised her at times to see the 5 of them acting so serious – very different to how they acted in down time. Brooke watched as Pierre, the magazine photographer, moved around him, camera seemingly never stopping. Pierre was neither French, nor Canadian, and Brooke doubted his real name was Pierre. “Ok, now cross your arms, give me the attitude!” he quipped. Brooke shuffled her camera between her hands awkwardly. Well, it was now or never. She began shooting, mindful to keep out of the way of Pierre. She stopped every few pictures, quickly flicking through them on the screen, worried they weren’t right. Actually, they weren’t half bad. The day seemed to drag on, although Brooke was having a ball. Her confidence increased, and when it came time for Harry’s individual shots just before lunch, she even managed a few ideas of her own. “On your left side, prop yourself up on your elbow, top leg bent, sole flat on the floor,” she instructed. She could feel Harry’s intense gaze on her, but she tried not to let it put her off. “Perfect,” she said, squinting through the lens. Pierre was stood back, one arm across his chest, the other resting under his chin, observing. “Let’s break for lunch,” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. Brooke gave Harry a hand up, blushing as he winked at her. “I can’t wait for it to be your turn,” he laughed, grabbing one of the sandwiches and taking a bite. Brooke frowned at him a little. He smiled at her with his mouth full, and winked again. Brooke walked over to her bags in the corner, swapping out for another memory card. Zayn walked over to her, a bottle of water in hand. “Hey, you’re looking super confident out there today, good work!” he said, fist bumping her. “Thanks Malik,” Brooke smiled. “Ready for later? I promise I won’t upstage you,” he winked, unscrewing the top on the bottle and downing half of it. Brooke must have looked puzzled, because Zayn raised his eyebrows at her and swallowed the water in his mouth, swiping the back of his hand across his face. “Oops, I thought Har had told you. Sorry!” he threw a glance in Harry’s direction, but he was deep in conversation with Liam. Brooke placed draped her camera around her neck and walked over to where her boyfriend was standing. She slid her left hand into the back pocket of his jeans, resting her head on his shoulder, tuning into the conversation he was having. “Monday, 8am. 2 radio shows, 1 morning tv, 1 signing and then rehearsal. Got it?” Liam asked, trying to swat away the makeup artist that was fussing over him, fixing his face after eating. He was up next, before the final group shots. “Sweet, got it,” Harry replied. Liam nodded and rolled his eyes as the girls dragged him back to wardrobe. “So, what’s happening after the shoot?” Brooke asked slyly, trying to get any information she could out of Harry, without mentioning anything Zayn had said. “You’ll see,” he winked, again. Jesus, she wished he would stop doing that. It wasn’t helping her resolve to say no to anything she didn’t want to do. “Let’s go, let’s go!” Pierre yelled sharply, ending the conversation before Brooke had a chance to prod anymore.

Pierre let her completely run the group shots. Brooke wasn’t sure this was a good idea. Individually, the boys were fine – helpful, agreeably, serious when necessary. Put them all together and it was a totally different story. There really wasn’t much directing going on, at least not by Brooke. The boys had their own ideas. Harry was laying flat on the ground, Niall was on Liam’s back, Louis on Zayn’s. They were pretending to be having piggy back races, with Harry as the finish line. Brooke worked with it, kneeling to capture the perfect shots. “Ok, ok, enough you 5! One last serious one, and then we’re done,” Brooke said, pulling and pushing them around until she had them right where she wanted them. As she walked back towards the middle of the room, she noticed Harry and Zayn high fiving behind the backs of the others. Brooke frowned again. Those two were planning trouble, she just knew it. “Perfect! Great job everyone, that’s a wrap!” Pierre exclaimed dramatically. Niall and Louis skipped off, arm-in-arm, towards the bathrooms, keen to remove “the crap” from their faces, as they called it. Harry walked over and grabbed Brooke, pulling her to him roughly. “Hey you,” he said, his lips hovering dangerously close to hers. “Ready for your next surprise?” he murmured against her lips. Brooke held onto him by his biceps, standing on her tippy toes to reach up to him. She took his bottom lip between her teeth, tugging gently. He pulled her even closer, until literally only their clothing separated them. They were interrupted by the sound of Zayn clearing his throat, hovering close to them, awkwardly. “Can I have your camera Brooke?” he asked. She rolled her eyes and sighed, pulling away from Harry, removing her camera from around her neck and handing it to him. Zayn was the only person she trusted with it, given he had studied photography at tech school. Not even Harry was allowed to touch it. He flicked through some of the pictures on the camera card, smirking as he did so. “So are we doing this, or what?” he asked, looking between Harry and Brooke. “Of course we are,” Harry answered, before Brooke had a chance to ask any more questions, again. “Doing what?” she asked, a flush running to her cheeks. “Wellll,” Harry started, “You’re always so busy behind the camera, I want you to experience the other side of it,” he finished, Brooke’s favourite puppy dog eye look adorning his face. She froze on the spot. “Uh, how about no?” she offered, slightly annoyed. “Lighten up B, it’ll be fun!” Zayn saved, throwing an arm around her shoulder. He directed her over to the backdrop set up, while Harry sat in a chair nearby, calling out random suggestions. “Harry! Shut up dude, we got this!” Zayn yelled, getting annoyed. Brooke giggled as Harry pouted. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

After the first few setups Zayn created with her, Brooke began to relax. It was kinda fun. “Do I have time for a cigarette?” she whispered, trying not to let Harry hear. He hated her smoking, but Zayn was one of the few people who understood it. He nodded, throwing her his pack and lighter. Harry was engrossed in his phone. “Let’s try a couple with that,” Zayn suggested. Brooke finished the ciggie and stubbed it out on the bottom of her shoe, flicking it towards the bin in the corner. It missed by a long shot, but it landed well away from them. “Harry, come on dude, you’re up,” Zayn said over his shoulder. Brooke’s stomach flipped a little as Harry smirked, walking towards her. His eyes were focused on her, intense. “I’ll, uh, give you two a minute,” Zayn mumbled, walking off. Harry kissed Brooke’s cheek, moving a strand of stray her off her face. “I know how much you’ve always wanted a boudoir shoot,” he whispered, huskily. “Are you for real?” Brooke asked, heart racing. She had always wanted to do that with Harry, but there never seemed to be a chance in the craziness of One Direction. “I found the folder on your laptop, I already gave the pics to Malik,” he continued. Brooke had a folder of example shots she loved, she had been collecting them for the last couple of years. “I fucking love you Harry,” Brooke exclaimed, taking a step back and removing her, or rather his, shirt, careful not to mess up her hair and makeup.

“I WANNA SEE!” Brooke yelled, getting up and running towards Zayn. He held her camera high above his head, well out her reach. “Hey!” she pouted, folding her arms across her chest. “I don’t think so. That might work on lover boy over there, but not me,” he said sternly, an evil glint in his eye. He skilfully removed the memory card above his head, sliding it into the pocket of his jeans before handing back the camera. “I’m sworn to secrecy on the next part of this surprise thing, so you’re gonna have to try it Hazza,” Zayn shrugged. “I’m gonna get out of here, I’ll see you two love birds on Monday,”.

It was only about 8pm when Brooke and Harry collapsed onto the bed, but after being up so early and being on her feet all day, Brooke was wrecked. She kicked her shoes off the end of the bed, not even bothering to get under the covers or remove the makeup. Harry on the other hand, was as usual, completely naked save for a few bracelets around his left wrist, and the cross he wore around his neck of late. Brooke popped one eye open, looking at him as he wiggled under the sheets beside her. His hands rested behind his head, and he turned to look at her, a cheeky grin spread across his face. His dimples really should be illegal. “Well that was fun!” he chuckled, his eyes gleaming in the dull light of the lamp. “It really was,” Brooke entwined her fingers with his, blushing slightly under his intense gaze. “Thank you,” she whispered, scooting closer to him. For all the times he was a pain in her ass, he certainly had his moments, ones that made up for it. Harry pulled on the sleeve on her tshirt. “I have a better way of saying thanks,” he suggested, raising one eyebrow. And there is was again, typical Harry. Not that Brooke was complaining…


	3. Chapter 3

Brooke woke to what she thought was the strong smell of coffee. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, not wanting to get up. There’s no way the smell was real. She was always the first one up, usually after noon. But she was still in bed, so clearly that wasn’t possible. Maybe it was just one of those dreams that felt real, like when you think your phone is ringing, but you wake up and the whole room is silent. Yeah, that must be it. What is definitely real is the clanging of ceramic mug against glass beside tabletop. Brooke was more than a little surprise to see Harry up, let alone awake. “Sorry,” he grinned, and she could tell he wasn’t sorry in the slightest. He had that childish air about him, the one he got when he knew something nobody else did. She looked down to see she was right. There was a mug, with coffee. Brooke must have looked puzzled, because Harry shrugged. “Niall taught me how to use the coffee machine. I think I made it the way you like it,” he offered. He handed her a white paper bag, embellished with the logo from the bakery down the street, before picking out some clothes and heading for the shower. Brooke smiled and opened the bag. She had no idea what time it was, but she felt much better this morning. She unrolled the top of the bag and stuck her hand in, pulling out a green tea and blueberry muffin. That boy knew her so well. Too well sometimes. Her face dropped slightly as she noticed the large bite mark and chunk missing from the top of it. “STYLES!” she yelled. Harry didn’t answer, although Brooke knew he could hear her. She could imagine the smirk planted across his face. “I hate you,” she said, unable to keep the laugh out of her voice. “Love you too!” he quipped, before turning on the water. The coffee was awful. Like, really bad. But Brooke didn’t want to run Harry’s clearly good mood, so she downed ¾ of it before hopping up to join him.

He was sitting on the end of the bed when Brooke emerged, towel drying her hair. He was holding a black blindfold. He was jiggling his right leg, a bad nervous habit of his that drove everyone mad. There was always a fight over who had to sit next to him on flights, or anything else that made him slightly uncomfortable. “If you wanted to tie me up, you should have said before I got in the shower” Brooke teased. She knew that whatever he had planned, that was the furthest thing from it. “Gladly, later,” he winked, motioning for her to come and sit on his lap. “For now,” he jibed, emphasising the now, “it’s purely a sensory part of today’s surprise”. Brooke just nodded before allowing him to cover her eyes and tie it behind her head.

Harry really wasn’t the best person to be directing someone without vision. He thought it was funny to try and make Brooke trip over her own feet, like she needed any extra help with that. “HAZZA!” Brooke squealed, child like, as her knee hit what felt like a brick wall. Again. She could feel Harry’s hands on her waist, feigning guidance, while he was doubled over laughing. “Ok, ok, we’re almost her,” he chuckled, “Watch the step!” Brooke took a large, but tentative step, her arms out in front of her in case he was trying to run her into a door or something. “Can I take this off now?” she asked, already bringing her fingertips up underneath the material. Harry stood in front of her, hands behind his back, a serious look on his face. There wasn’t much to their surroundings for Brooke to take in. It was a small room, brick on the inside, although they had been painted white. There was a large, albeit old clock behind Harry, that looked like it might stop at any second. There was a fake, wood-look desk almost directly underneath the clock, with a vase of wilting flowers. That’s it. No signs. No photos. No advertising. “Harry…” Brooke started. She wasn’t sure exactly where they were, or why. She didn’t understand what the surprise was supposed to be. But Harry looked all serious, like he might be offended by any criticism of whatever this surprise was supposed to be. “I dunno what to say,”. That was safe, surely she thought to herself. Obviously not, because Harry’s bottom lip jutted out into a pout, and he slouched slightly, looking at the ground. “Haz, baby, I didn’t mean it like that!” Brooke said, taking a couple of steps forward and closing her arms around him. Harry looked up, his eyes meeting hers, before catching her off guard and picking her up, throwing her over his shoulder. He spun her around a couple of times, laughing hysterically as she begged him to put her down. She slapped his ass, making him falter, but he didn’t drop her. He didn’t put her down until they heard someone clear their throat. “Steve, thanks for meeting us,” Harry responded, pulling the older guy into one of those typical guy, back slapping half-hugs. “You must be Brooke,” Steve said to her, extending his hand. “The one and only!” she smiled, lacing her fingers with Harry’s. “Right this way, I’m all set up.” Steve motioned for them to follow him through a door Brooke hadn’t seen, and further into the building. “Zayn dropped the pictures off last night. That kid’s got a real eye for it,”

“He’s not the only one,” Harry replied, squeezing Brooke’s hand and winking at her as they came to a stop in front of a heavy looking door. Brooke’s heart was racing, she didn’t know who Steve was, or even what was happening. What did last night’s photos have to do with anything? Steve held the door open for them, ushering them in. It was quite an adjustment. The room was completed dark, save for a single lamp at the back, and the small amount of light coming in from the open door. Brooke squinted, trying to make out anything that would give away why they were in a dingy old building, in a creepy dark room with a stranger (to Brooke at least). There were trays lined up in rows along one wall, bottles of what appeared to be chemicals lining shelves above them. But it was the photos pegged along an almost invisible line on the opposite wall that gave it away. “Harry,” she began slowly, turning to look at him “Are we in a darkroom?” she half asked, half whispered. She wasn’t sure why, it must have been the lack of light that seemed to demand quiet. “Welll, I know you’ve always wanted to do it, and Steve here is the best in London, and agreed to teach us for the day. And seeing as we now actually have some photos together, I thought you might like it,” he said, pulling her closer to him. Brooke felt hot tears prick her eyes, threatening to spill over. It was times like these she wished the media could see. Harry copped a lot of flack for being a womanising man whore, but really he was one of the sweetest, most thoughtful guys Brooke had ever met. She pressed her lips to kiss gently. “It’s perfect. I can’t believe this. Thank you,”.


	4. Chapter 4

“Lets get into it then,” Steve said, motioning them over towards the lamp and back table. Spread along tiny shelves were negatives of the pictures from Brooke’s memory card. “Whoa, that’s so cool!” she remarked, reaching out a finger tentatively to touch the edge. “No touching!” Harry commented, slapping her hand away jokingly. “Here, use these,” Steve said, handing them both a pair of, what looked like, tweezers. “Don’t pick it up directly on the image, aim for the edges. And try not to drop it. Lets bring them over here so we can start developing the paper,” walking over to the bench along the other wall. Harry mock saluted Steve behind his back, holding out his negative in front of him, like it was a dirty sock rather than something that should be treated with a bit of care. Brooke couldn’t help but stifle back a laugh. She followed obligingly, elbowing her way past Harry and closer to the bench to learn as much as possible from Steve.

It was easy to lose track of time in the dimly light room, and Brooke’s head was beginning to pound. She was concentrating hard, eyes flicking between the developing photo in the tray in front of her, and the timer above her head. “So 3 minutes for the paper, 5-10 seconds for exposure, and then?” she asked, trying to wrap her head around the process. Steve had explained it in detail, and then left them to give it a go. Test prints at first, which had bored Harry almost to the point of tears. He pulled out his phone, but got told off, so now he was shadowing Brooke, sometimes wrapping his arms around her waist as she moved between the benches, smoothing out the frown lines that were evident on her forehead when she was concentrating. She was totally in her element, even if she was still getting the hang of it. “When do we actually get to SEE something?” Harry whined, to neither of them in particular. “Bugger off Hazza, seriously dude. Have some patience!” Brooke replied, carefully draining off the excess fluid of the print she was currently working on. “Now into the final rinse off, and hopefully the image should begin to appear pretty quickly,” Steve coached, coming over to inspect the final step. She carefully lowered the sheet into the final tray, almost like if she let it go too quickly it would shatter. The three of them stood, hands behind backs, necks craning to get a better view. Their heads pushed together didn’t provide room for light on the situation, but as soon as it was fully submerged, lines and colours began to appear, like magic. Brooke gasped a little, shocked at how quickly it happened, and the fact that it had worked. She turned to look at the other two, not sure what to say. Harry broke into a big grin, picking her up and spinning her around, before kissing her on the nose. “You did it B! I’m so proud of you!” Brooke noticed Steve had removed the image and was currently hanging it next to the existing images that had given away what the room was for when they had first walked in. “Not bad for a first attempt, good work Brooke. Harry told me you were a natural at the photography thing, and I can certainly see that he is right,”. Brooke just grinned. “More?” she asked excitedly, like a small child at Christmas. “I think you’re going to be fine here. I’m going to head off, but I left my number on the door outside, if you need anything,” Steve said, picking up a bag from the corner and heading for the door. “Harry, the box is in the cupboard until the light. Oh, and good luck with the viewing Brooke. I’ll see you there,” he added as he left. Brooke was confused. Steve was leaving them here, unattended? Box? Viewing? What? Nothing quite made sense. “Harry, what are you doing?” She asked incredulously. He was already bending down into the cupboard, pulling out an archiving box. “Well, it’s like this,” he began slowly, motioning for her to join him, removing the lid of the box, “you know I’ve always loved your work. And how much you’ve always wanted to do this,” he said, motioning to the room around them, “And so the next step was to make sure you get to do this with all your other work, not just Zayn’s from last night. And as much as I can’t wait to hang up your stuff everywhere in the new place, I also want to share it with the world. Starting with London.” Brooke peered inside the box. Inside were neatly stacked piles of negatives, the top ones she could see where from their recent trip to New York City. Harry pulled an envelope out of his back pocket and handed it to her. It was pearlescent orange in colour. Brooke looked at Harry, wide eyed, not saying a word and walked towards the single light in the room. It was fancy looking, the kind of thing you expect of a wedding invitation. She carefully slid a finger under the sealed edge and ran across it, careful not to tear it. Harry was nervous, she could tell, sneaking glances at him. He was doing that thing where he bites on the side of his finger. Brooke realised her hands were shaking too. This was very un-Harry like. He wasn’t into grand gestures. Small, subtle and frequent, but not really anything like the last 24 hours. She pulled out a rectangular cardboard sheet and held it towards the light, curious.

Brooke Valerio

‘Story of My Life’

Private viewing at National Gallery, London.

Saturday 30th November, 2014

5:30pm-late

Exhibition dates: 1 December – 5 January

The gallery is pleased to invite you to ‘Story of My Life, a new exhibtion from London based life photographer Brooke Valerio. Inspiration for the new series comes from the fast paced, rock star lifestyle shared with her boyfriend, Harry Styles and his One Direction bandmates; traversing the globe, conquering one country at a time; a look inside the inner workings of life was a celebrity WAG.

Tears prickled, hot and heavy in Brooke’s eyes. Was this even real? She read and reread the invitation in front of her, tracing her fingers over what she knew was Harry’s favourite picture of hers, one from the POV of the boys, looking out towards the crowd at the Staples Centre on the Take Me Home tour. Phones, lighters and glow sticks lit up like thousands of tiny stars, all shined directly towards the silhouettes of the 5 boys. Even though they all knew the fans had been screaming at that point, most of them hysterical, the silence it conveyed is what Harry always quoted as being his favourite thing about it. It had been used as the main promotional image for This Is Us. Brooke was so caught up in the moment, she hadn’t noticed Harry had walked over to join her, his hand on the small of her back, lifting her chin up to face him. He looked down at her, admiration and concern all at once. His green eyes bore into her, his dimples given away at the slight hint of a smile on his lips. And in that moment, there were no words. Her lips ravished his, needy and biting. She was never one much for expressing emotion, especially not verbally. That’s what she wrote for, and photographed. He didn’t resist, picking her up and carrying her over to the door, the only safe place. She wrapped her legs around his waist, allowing him to rest both their weight against it. For once, it was a kiss, and only a kiss. But it was so much more than that at the same time. It was all the thank you’s that would never be enough; it was all the doubts; all the fights; all the late nights and early mornings; all the time apart, and too much time together. It was everything that was them, and everything that would ever be enough. They both had tears streaming down their faces when they finally pulled apart, and no words would have even been adequate.


	5. Chapter 5 - final

Brooke had 3 weeks. 3 weeks to sort, decide upon, develop and then change her mind and do it all again. Harry and Steve had the entire thing organised, and Brooke was free to come and go as she pleased. After the first few days, Harry stopped coming all the time. And when he did, he only sometimes helped. He was busy working on a song with the boys, so they were all busy writing music and lyrics, and communicating via Skype to test things out. Sometimes he bought his guitar and sang for Brooke, but he was always quiet when she was deep in thought, or concentrating on something particular. He was the ying to her yang in that way. They complemented each other perfectly. Her calming down his wild, rock-star ways, keeping him in line and his pants on. Him mellowing her out, showing her it was ok to have fun, and indulge in life sometimes. There was 2 days left when Brooke decided to return the favour and blindfold him, leading him, chuckling, into the dark room for what would hopefully (and hopefully not too) be the last time. “Ok, ok, point taken, it’s not very nice. Can I take it off now?” he half begged, squirming to release his wrists from Brooke’s surprisingly tight grip. “Wait,” she said, “before you do, I just want you to promise that you’ll be honest. I think you know how much of a big deal this is, and I know you love me. Which is why I want you to tell me what you really think, rather than just what you think I want to hear,”. She let go of his wrists, and he removed the blindfold. He cupped her face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over her cheeks. “Always,” he said simply, before turning to look at the photographs lining the room. Today was the day Brooke was finally revealing her chosen works. They hadn’t really ever discussed it. Not that Harry would have had much of a say. It was her thing, and they both respected that. Brooke couldn’t help but feel vulnerable as Harry walked around, inspecting each one carefully, his hands folded carefully behind his back. He didn’t say anything, just looked and walked, the only sound in the room created by the steps he took. Her heart was pounding, more so the closer he got to the final images. He turned back to face her, an impossibly large smile on his face. Brooke wasn’t sure she’d even seen the dimples so deep on his cheeks. “You are the best photographer I know!” he yelled, laughing. He took her hand and twirled her around, pulling her to him . “This is the start of something beautiful, I know it,” he murmured softly in her ear.

Brooke walked around the gallery, glass of Moet in her hand, her heels clicking loudly on the marble floor. She stood in front of each piece, in awe. She couldn’t believe she was here, standing in the gallery, with her photographs up on the walls. Her fingers brushed the plaque under each one, a meaningful explanation of each photograph engraved into them. There was still an hour until the viewing started, but she was nervous. She’d left the boys in the function room, mumbling something about needing alone time. She was dressed in a full length strapless gown, with a black chiffon overlay, and silver bodice. Her hair was swept up into a simple but elegant upstyle, her makeup natural. She turned towards the door when we heard it open and close, and smiled as Harry crossed the room towards her. He was dressed in suit pants and a jacket, with a navy blue and white heart Burberry shirt. His arms snaked around her waist, his chin resting on the top of her head. It was silent, but comfortable. “Thank you,” Brooke whispered after a time, attempting to turn to look at Harry. He squeezed her tightly. “No matter what happens tonight, I’m so proud of you, and so lucky to call you my girlfriend,” he replied, placing a kiss on her left cheek.

“Are you two love birds ready? It’s almost show time!,” Louis’ loud voice rang out around the otherwise quiet room, and both Harry and Brooke chuckled, pulling apart. “Ready as I’ll ever be!” she replied. It wasn’t long before people started to file in, all of them dressed to the nines. Some Brooke knew, a lot she didn’t. Harry hovered by her side throughout the night, gently pulling her along when she was caught up too long, introducing her to people she didn’t know. There was a lot of smiling, congratulations, posing and photos. She talked through each photo repeatedly with different groups of people. She smiled gratefully when Niall swapped her empty glass for a new one, winking at her. Harry excused them from the conversation they were having with a novice photographer, who was putting the hard word on Brooke about techniques and models and various other things that weren’t really appropriate for the event. “Thanks,” she whispered in his ear as they walked towards the small platform at the front of the gallery. It was the first time since Louis and the rest of the guys had interrupted her and Harry’s moment earlier that she wasn’t hosting or entertaining of the guests, and it felt good to have a moment to breathe. One of the gallery staff handed Harry a microphone and he helped her up on the small platform. Harry tapped lightly on the microphone a couple of times and the buzz in the room died down. “I’d just like to start off by thanking you all for coming tonight. It means a lot to Brooke, and to me that you’re all here to help us celebrate how talented this one is,” he motioned towards Brooke. “And doesn’t she look beautiful tonight!” A cheer went up around the room, making Brooke blush and look at the floor. “As one last surprise this evening, the boys and I have a new song we’d like to dedicate to Brooke. You mean everything to me, and I’m honoured to be sharing tonight with you,” he finished, smiling adoringly at her as the other 4 joined them on the platform. Brooke was sat on a stool off to the side, in front of the boys, her back slightly to the crowd. Music began to sound throughout the room, oddly familiar yet new at the same time to her.

Written in these walls are the stories that I can’t explain,  
I leave my heart open but it stays right here empty for days.

She told me in the morning she don’t feel the same about us in her bones,  
It seems to me that when I die these words will be written on my stone.

And I’ll be gone gone tonight  
The ground beneath my feet is open wide  
The way that I been holdin’ on too tight  
With nothing in between

The story of my life I take her home  
I drive all night to keep her warm and time…  
Is frozen (the story of, the story of)

The story of my life I give her hope  
I spend her love until she’s broke inside  
The story of my life (the story of, the story of)

Written on these walls are the colours that I can’t change  
Leave my heart open but it stays right here in its cage

 

I know that in the morning now, I’ll see us in the light upon a hill  
Although I am broken my heart is untamed stillx

And I’ll be gone gone tonight  
The fire beneath my feet is burning bright  
The way that I been holdin’ on so tight  
With nothing in between

The story of my life I take her home  
I drive all night to keep her warm and time…  
Is frozen (the story of, the story of)

The story of my life I give her hope  
I spend her love until she’s broke inside  
The story of my life (the story of, the story of)

And I been waiting for this time to come around  
But baby running after you is like chasing the clouds

The story of my life I take her home  
I drive all night to keep her warm and time…  
Is frozen

The story of my life I give her hope (give her hope)  
I spend her love until she’s broke inside (until she’s broke inside)  
The story of my life (the story of, the story of)  
The story of my life  
The story of my life (the story of, the story of)

(Harry) The story of my life.

The room was silent for all of about a split second, before everyone erupted into loud applause. Brooke wiped away the tears staining her cheeks, a huge smile on her face. All 5 of the boys were looking down at her as Zayn tried to shush the crowd once again. He nudged Harry, who took a couple of steps forward, clearing his throat awkwardly. At least as awkwardly as Harry ever got. “Brooke, I was wondering…will you help complete the story of my life and marry me?” he asked, looking at her through his lashes, puppy dogs eyes and dimples. Her breath hitched in her throat, blooding coursing loudly in her ears. Wait, what? Did he just ask what she thought he asked? Judging by the looks on the faces of everyone else in the room, he had. “Yes! Of course I will Hazza!” Brooke squealed through her tears. The room erupted once again, but all Harry and Brooke could see were each other. She ran the short distance between them and he picked her up, spinning her around before bringing her back down. His large hands framed her face, tucking a few stray hairs behind her ears. “I love you B,” he whispered, their foreheads and noses pressed together, eyes locked on each other. “Love you too,” she smiled against his lips. This was just what they both wanted, needed, wished for.

The first photo of them in that moment became the photo for their engagement party invites. And it became abundantly clear to them both, that everything exists to end in a photograph.


End file.
